


Open For Public Use

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Prurience [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Because Harry has Good Doms™, Blindfolds, Bottom Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Gags, M/M, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Spitroasting, Stranger Sex, Suspension Bondage, Top Tom Riddle, Top Tom Riddle Sr.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: His hands were grasped in warm, rough palms and then the rope was being looped around his wrists. He watched as Mr Riddle flung one end over the branch and strung him up like a work of art for his perusal. He pulled him high enough that Harry had his arms stretched straight up, and then tugged some more until only the tips of his toes touched the ground.Tom laughed at him and kissed his mouth fondly. "You reap what you sow, my dear," he said.





	Open For Public Use

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the amazing [LittleMissSketch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissSketch/pseuds/LittleMissSketch) for betaing! Happy Valentine's I guess （*＾3＾）

Tom's smile was razor sharp as he undressed Harry despite his protests, mild though they were. His hands moved precisely, popping each button from its place until Harry's shirt hung open, his bare skin exposed to the evening air.  
  
Dusk hung low in the sky. Before long it would be night, and although it was summer the absence of the sun still manifested in air cool enough to leave goosebumps along his skin. Mr Riddle watched impassively as Tom pushed the shirt off Harry's shoulders, letting it fall to the floor without care as to its fate. He started on his trousers just as Mr Riddle stepped closer, testing a branch of the oak they stood under as if he hadn't already picked the perfect one days ago. His eyes shone with an unholy amusement. Harry started shivering.  
  
His trousers fell as soon as his belt was undone, and then his boxers until he was naked in the middle of the Riddles' garden maze. A part of him wanted to hide himself behind one of the hedges, but Mr Riddle's gaze was sharp enough to deter him - he'd earned this, after all. It was this or serving at one of Mr Riddle's more private parties, and Harry could never manage to be polite to those horrid, snobby people.  
  
So he remained where he was without protest as Tom reached for his satchel, pulling out a long length of braided rope. He handed it to his father and dove right back into the bag, pulling out a small bottle of lube and a thick, dark purple dildo.  
  
Harry flushed just at the sight of it. It was fairly new, mostly unused except for last night when Mr Riddle had bent him over his desk and worked him open with it. ' _To get you used to it_ ,' he'd said. He ached at the thought of it inside him.  
  
His hands were grasped in warm, rough palms and then the rope was being looped around his wrists. He watched as Mr Riddle flung one end over the branch, thick and strong enough to hold his weight without breaking, and strung him up like a work of art for his perusal. He pulled him high enough that Harry had his arms stretched straight up, and then tugged some more until only the tips of his toes touched the ground. It took him a moment to regain his balance, his arms already tired at the prospect of remaining like this for the next few _hours_ , but he didn't complain.  
  
The look on his face must have said it all though, because Tom laughed at him and kissed his mouth fondly. "You reap what you sow, my dear," he said. Harry frowned at him, opened his mouth to say something scathing in the face of Tom's amusement, but then something warm and slick pushed inside him and he moaned rather loudly instead.  
  
"Such a little slut," Mr Riddle said from behind him. His voice was low and seemingly unbothered, but when Harry wrapped eager legs around Tom's waist Mr Riddle's fingers sped up eagerly, pushing deep and stretching him wide. His index finger crooked sideways, pushing into the walls of his hole, and when Harry bucked eagerly he added more lube to slick the way in. Before long he had four fingers worked in, and then Tom - kissing his shoulder all the while - nudged at the rim of his hole with the tip of the dildo.  
  
He arched his back at the pressure, the push, the shape of it stretching him wide. It was so very large, the largest he'd ever taken, and despite being stretched properly and patiently he ached at the size of it. Tom's mouth moved against his skin like he was going to bite it, playing at leaving a mark, but Mr Riddle grasped his hair and pulled him off. Tom growled and glared balefully at his father, but Mr Riddle didn't budge. His chest pushed against Harry's back, Tom's arms wrapped tight around his waist, but though they held him closely he suddenly felt insignificant.  
  
"We talked about this," Mr Riddle said. His voice was just a little sharp, just a little commanding. Tom didn't seem pleased. Mr Riddle clearly didn't care. "You'll not mark up his pretty skin tonight,” he ordered. “Not until _after_ ."  
  
And they _had_  talked about this. Tom had agreed to this, had enjoyed the thought of coming back to see Harry painted in cum and bites and bruises left by people unknown, but it was less that he was being denied more that it was his _father_  telling him no that bothered him.  
  
Their relationship remained incredibly complicated, a convoluted mess of resentment, desire and perhaps a little jealousy. Nevertheless, Tom shifted his head the slightest bit, his lip jutting out stubbornly, and Mr Riddle let go without fuss. He seemed uncaring, like it didn't matter to him one way or the other the way in which he'd brought Tom to heel, but there was something so very _smug_  in the smirk he pushed into Harry's nape that there was no doubt of the pleasure Tom's obstinacy brought him. His fingers found the end of the toy inside him and, with practiced precision, he slid it out only to ram it back in. The motion was almost uncaring in its violence and yet Harry gasped, his legs tightening around Tom's waist and his heels pushing him harder between his legs. He wanted to ask him to be softer and he almost did, because despite how arousing it was there was a hard line to Mr Riddle's body against his back, to Tom's jaw as he watched Harry gasp. But then Mr Riddle did it again, and again, and Harry couldn't say anything.  
  
It didn't matter. Tom smirked, his fingers so very soft compared to the firm push of Mr Riddle as they trailed across his cheek. "You reap what you sow," he repeated, quieter this time. "If only you'd listened to me." And Harry thought, ' _that boy would have died if I hadn't stepped in_ .' He thought, ' _the police would have come too late_ .' There was a strange look in Tom's eyes as he watched Harry get fucked, now slow enough that he could feel every inch of the toy as it rubbed against his insides.  
  
He leant forward and kissed Tom on the mouth, and Tom let him, his hands warm where they wove into his hair to rest against his scalp. Mr Riddle thrust the dildo in a few more times, twisting it a little at the end of every push before pulling it back out. Tom moved his hand down and, without warning, flicked the head of Harry's cock.  
  
The sharp sting brought tears to his eyes. He gasped wordlessly, the flick of Tom's nail leaving a surprisingly harsh bite on the skin of his aroused cock. It took him a moment to blink the blurriness away, by which time Tom had reached for his satchel again and returned with a bright red ribbon and a very familiar, very wide plug. He promptly handed the metal toy to Mr Riddle, who slipped the dildo out slowly and then slicked Harry some more before pushing the plug in, unmindful of his pained hiss.  
  
Tom looked Harry in the eyes as he bound the ribbon around his cock, making sure he wouldn't be able to reach orgasm. "Don't worry, I'll make it clear that nobody's to give you any _real_  stimulation." He gripped the base of Harry's erection and pulled, making him thrust upwards wantonly. "After all," he laughed, "you're only here to be fucked."  
  
Mr Riddle walked around to his front as well, a gag in his hands. "Open up now, my dear," he said. Tom stepped back, letting Harry's legs down so that he was back on his tiptoes and Mr Riddle right before him. He tsked impatiently when Harry opened up. "Wider," he ordered coolly, tapping at his lower lip. "I've seen you take more _easily_ ."  
  
The ball was pushed into his mouth, and once the strap was secured around his head Mr Riddle kissed him over the gag, knowing full well the effect it had on him. Oh, Harry would be a mess before this even started, he just _knew_  it. They hadn't even started, not really, but already his mouth was wet with saliva, his legs trembling. How would he stand the rest of the night when he was already tired, already _desperate_ ? And yet once again Tom laughed, pulling out a seemingly unimposing strip of black fabric.  
  
"It might seem difficult now, my dear, but just you wait." He took Harry's sight, the black fabric coupled with the lack of sunlight making it impossible to see. "You'll _love_  it," he whispered into Harry's ear. "I just _know_  it."  
  
And then he moved back. The warmth of his body - slight as it had been - was suddenly gone, and Harry felt its absence keenly. Already he found himself focusing on their footsteps retreating from him, the slight pause in their movement as Tom presumably picked up his satchel. His ears strained as the sound of their walking quietened until the tread of their boots blended into the rustling of leaves and the crickets that came awake with the sun's goodbye.  
  
And Harry hung, alone and naked, in the middle of the maze.  
  
His mind wandered, choosing randomly to focus on the faintest breeze, the way it brushed against his skin like a lover's hair, before moving on to the sound of little animals in the hedges, the tightness of rope around his wrists. Every fibre of the rope felt like an unforgiving noose. Harry wondered if it really was that tight, if the skin there was red from the slight, uncontrollable twists of his wrists - as if to test the knot - or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him.  
  
He thought, many a time, that he heard someone approach. More than once he thought he heard footsteps over the nearest hedge, the quiet chatting of friends or lovers out for a brief walk. Perhaps, Harry thought, if he strained his ears he could even hear the music from the party at the manor. Logically he knew he wouldn't be able to - it was too far, the hedge maze too thick, but it felt like his mind needed _something_  to grab onto, lest it lose itself in the strange sensation of a not-quite-void, of an emptiness that wasn't quite empty and yet still not _enough_ .  
  
It felt like forever before he actually _did_  hear someone - a woman, laughing what seemed like mere meters from where he hung. Far too close. He wondered how he had missed her until now, until she was but a  minutes walk away from where he was strung up. He tensed as he heard her voice become louder, draw nearer, until he could hear her near-silent partner quietly chuckle in response to her commentary.  
  
He wondered when they would see him, how they'd react. Harry knew Mr Riddle had made sure only _willing_  partners would find their way into the maze, but nevertheless he grew nervous and apprehensive. His stomach felt oddly heavy and his ears almost hurt with the focus he put on them. When would they see him? Would he know? He couldn't even tell which direction they'd come from, not really. Tom had only taken his sight away, but waiting for company as he was he felt almost dizzy, like he'd lost all sense of realism. Logic seemed too far, and he couldn't find it in himself to slide into a calmer state - all he could to was wait anxiously.  
  
They neared. He could hear their footsteps on the path, soft steps on the ground as they meandered their way into the centre of the maze. He could pinpoint the moment they saw him - she gasped delightedly, like she'd just being given a gift, and before he knew it there was a body standing along his back - close enough to feel and yet not touch, a shape shielding him from the gentle breeze that felt like ice on his bare skin. He wondered what he looked like to them, hung naked and blinded from a tree like mere decoration.  
  
Her hands were small, delicate and yet her grip was strong. She grasped his chin without shame, turning it this way and that. "Isn't he beautiful, honey," she said, her other hand flicking idly at one of Harry's exposed nipples. He flinched violently, moaning embarrassingly loud through the gag. Even such little stimulation felt more like a bolt of lightning after so long spent untouched. For what felt like hours the only real stimulation he had focused on was the way his toes felt against soft soil and the burn of rope around his wrists. Her touch might as well have been a slap.  
  
She laughed at him, her hands stroking along his chest gently. Her skin was soft, the bite of her nails keen, and Harry tensed even more as he wondered at the man behind him. He imagined - in the vague way one dreams before they are asleep - that he could feel the swelling of the stranger's dick against his back, the heat from his crotch, the arousal coming off his skin like body heat. He couldn't, he told himself, he _couldn't_ , he knew this, and yet-  
  
She slid her hands down his flank, thumbs dragging purposefully against the sensitive skin there. He twitched again, his open jaw aching, his shoulders burning with every sway of his body, but she moved like he hadn't even reacted. Her right hand slid further along his back, her fingers long. Harry shook when she tapped the plug inside him once, twice, pressing a sharp smile into the weak place between his collarbone and neck.  
  
"Take it out, darling," she ordered. She wasn't speaking to Harry. The man behind him was gentle, sliding his plug out smoothly. "Is he loose enough?" she asked. Her chest pressed against his own now, her hands pushing at the inside of his thighs like she was trying to make space for her lover between them.  
  
Fingers skirted at the edge of his hole, pushing just enough to slip inside the very rim. "Yes, he'll do," came the voice from behind him, deep, husky. A large man's voice. A zipper went down, the sound like a shot in the quiet, and then the hot, smooth shape of an erection was pushing up against him.  
  
He gasped, spreading his legs willingly now. The woman laughed again, elation in her voice. "Oh he's so _ready_ ," she said. The man grasped onto his waist and she gripped at the backs of his thighs, pushing them up against his chest and revealing him to her eyes. Harry flushed, wondering where her gaze rested. The not-knowing made him burn with an uncomfortable mix of shame and arousal.  
  
"Go on," she egged the man. His fingers flexed on Harry's waist, pressing hard enough to leave bruises. "Take him," she demanded. "I want to see his _face_ -"  
  
And he was so _wide_ . Harry wanted to cry, wanted to cry at the burn, the sudden fullness, the ache in his arms. "Please," he wanted to beg, but he didn't know what for, and all that came out was a high-pitched, pathetic moan. It seemed like _almost_  too much, too heavy for his mind, too heavy for the space in his body. He felt adrift - the only things that anchored him were their hands, his dick, her mouth, the rope around his hands like a reminder of Tom, of Mr Riddle. ' _They can use you_ ', their memory whispered into Harry's ear, someone else's dick inside him, ' _but they can't take you away_ '.  
  
He wanted Tom's bite so badly now, wanted him to be watching, wanted Mr Riddle to be pressed against his front and telling the man inside him ' _speed up, harder, give it to him like he needs it_ .' Their absence was sharp, almost detestable, and yet-  
  
Why was he so hard? The woman pushed a finger into the slit of his weeping dick, drawing the wetness across his bottom lip like lip-gloss. He wondered if it looked slick. "Your mouth looks so pretty like this," she sighed. "I almost wish I could watch you could _suck_  him instead." The man behind him thrust up again, harder, more desperate. He was nearing his orgasm, Harry could tell, and he too became desperate to come.  
  
He pushed up, pushed back, his thighs pressing into his chest and her mouth on his lips, stretching over the gag that pushed them wide. She laughed at his neediness, his open, naked desire. But she didn't touch him again. He fucked Harry like Harry was a toy, like he was an object, and when their mouths met over his shoulder Harry could hear it, hear the slide of their tongues against each other, his pants into her as he came inside Harry. He whined, he wanted so badly to _come_ , wanted a hand on his dick for just a second.  
  
But, of course, he didn't get it. Her dress was silky soft, it slid against the underside of his tied erection like a cruel joke, but it wasn't enough. She kissed her lover as his thrusts became sloppy, messy, until he came inside Harry all wet and hot and eager. He slid out almost as soon as he finished, and she slid the plug back inside as if to pretend none of this had ever happened. He wondered if he still remained unmarked, nothing on the outside showing the way in which he'd been defiled, his insides wet with a stranger's cum.  
  
And he thought of it now, thought of how he might well see this couple again, might make polite conversation at some party or fancy lunch, and never know that he'd fucked him while she'd watched. He wouldn't know, but _they_  would. Every time they looked at him pretending to be civilised and remember the way he'd moaned, and when they'd watch Tom come up behind him they'd remember the way he'd spread his legs for another man's dick like a whore. Perhaps they'd whisper about it, about how that young man wasn't all he seemed, about how much of a slut he really was - after all, what kind of desperate must he be to let absolute _strangers_  fuck him?  
  
They thoughts made him burn, his flush spreading from his face to his shoulders, his chest - he didn't need to see it to know it. Tom had described it to him often enough. If he thought about it the air still felt cold in his skin, but he felt almost numb to it nonetheless. He felt instead like his blood was buzzing, like it boiled hot enough right underneath his cold skin that anything else felt like an afterthought. His thighs were sore, his shoulders aching, but most of all he couldn't stop focusing on the wet of cum inside him. He couldn't stop thinking about it, about someone coming by and finding his insides _dripping_ .  
  
He heard the next one coming for much longer. It was one person, walking fast enough for it to be purposeful rather than a relaxing walk down the garden path. It didn't take very long for him to get to where Harry waited, and once he did he wasted no time in grabbing carelessly onto Harry's hips.  
  
The man laughed. "I couldn't _believe_  it!" he said, clearly excited. He was impatient, one hand on his own trousers whilst the other moved up to grope at Harry's chest like he was an animal, a dog instead of a man.  
  
"I've seen you, you know," he continued. His erection was out now, pushing between Harry's thighs. The man surprised him then by calming, almost as if he hadn't thought he'd really be allowed to go this far, but now that he'd managed he'd become confident that Harry wasn't going to get taken from him. "Push them together, doll," he murmured, tapping at the outside of Harry's left thigh and then pushing at it until Harry's muscles strained to keep them tight. He pushed in and back, his thrusts sharp but slow. Like he had all the time in the world.  
  
"I've seen you," he said again, "with their hands all over you. You smile so sweetly, you know?" He pushed in again, hard. Harry squirmed and the man shushed him by grabbing his hair and pulling his head forward and to the side, so that his nape was bared. He gnawed at the bone of his spine like he was starving, speaking in between breaths. "I always thought your lips were perfect for sucking cock," he groaned. "I always wanted to make you sit on my cock while everyone just _watched_ .  
  
"But they wouldn't have let me."  
  
He let go suddenly, moving to Harry's front. Harry waited for him to touch him again, to push his cock back between his thighs, but the man didn't move closer. Instead, he heard the slick sound of something wet, and realised with a sudden, heated clarity man was jerking of right in front of him. Was jerking off to _him_ , unashamedly, and Harry still couldn't see him. He gasped, feeling hot at the thought of the man coming all over him. He wouldn't be able to see it coming, he thought. He'd just have to feel it, have to wait patiently. He couldn't avoid it, he thought, not even if he wanted to.  
  
The man groaned loudly as he came, stripes of cum painting Harry's thighs like the stranger was marking his presence. His semen was hot, felt almost scalding on his cooled skin. He whined, a high pitched noise that he was immediately embarrassed of making, but the didn't even seem to notice. He groaned again, obvious pleasure in his voice at the way he had defiled what he'd previously thought of as untouchable, and then laughed again. It sounded a lot more aggressive now.  
  
"Look," he said, and pushed his hips into Harry's leg. His cock was still hard, a burning brand against his skin. "Look what you do to me." And then, pushing his mouth close to Harry's ear, he whispered, "they should have shared you a lot _earlier_ ."  
  
He fucked Harry then, slid the plug out and pushed his legs up and around his waist. "Look at you," he said as he pushed in, "already been fucked, but you're still desperate for it aren't you?"  
  
And Harry could only nod in agreement.  
  
He finished quickly the second time, pushing the plug back in before letting Harry's legs slid from his waist. Then he patted Harry on the head like he was a child and said, "nice fuck princess," before leaving him standing there, cooling come on his chest and thighs, feeling ever more full.  
  
He could barely stand after. His arms and shoulders throbbed and he couldn't seem to find his balance, slipping from side to side as he tried to stand comfortably. His toes felt almost numb, but he couldn't lay them flat or even move his weight to the outer edge of his feet. Mr Riddle had tied him up too high. A part of him hoped for another man to come pick him up and give him a seconds reprieve.

 

He didn't have to wait long for the next guest to find him.  
  
This one was near silent. He was quick, his hands large and rough with calluses and when he slid the plug out of Harry's loose hole he breathed in sharply. His thrusts were quick and hard, punishing, but he didn't come. He seemed to fuck Harry for hours, pushing into him until Harry was crying out and trying to clench down on his dick, but the man just wouldn't _come_ . And then, without any warning, the man shouted "Hey!"  
  
Harry flinched, his body trying to turn around in confusion, but the man's grip was strong and unyielding on his hips. He'd been so engrossed, Harry had failed to notice another person coming into the centre of the maze.  
  
"Come here," the man called out. His voice was incredibly deep, and it felt like it travelled to his very bones. He didn't even pause in fucking Harry, his pace just as fast and unashamed, unfazed by the other man who was obviously watching. The newcomer didn't reply, but before long Harry could feel his breath on his face.  
  
The man behind him grabbed at his thighs and pushed them up and apart, as wide as they'd go. He fucked into Harry a few more times and then paused meaningfully.  
  
"Go on," he urged after a second. "He's much too loose for me."  
  
Harry tensed when he realised what the man meant. He started shaking from side to side, whimpering from behind his gag. "You'll rip me apart," he wanted to say. "I can't take it." But all that came out where desperate little noises. The man behind him chuckled, the sound cruel and dark and merciless.  
  
"Go on," he said again, and shifted his grip on Harry so as to keep him still. The zip came undone with a sharp sound, and then the newcomer was pushing his dick at the rim of Harry's hole.  
  
He wailed louder. "Hurry up," the first man said, and then seemed to become annoyed with Harry's protesting. He slapped his butt sharply, once, then again three times in quick succession until the skin there felt red and bruised. His hands were large and rough, and he hit hard. Harry quietened and let himself be spread open again without further protests, reeling a little at the sudden aggression. The second man pushed his dick inside in one smooth slide, and the first began fucking him in earnest once again.  
  
It stung, the ache prevalent in his mind. It wasn't like he'd never taken two cocks before, but Mr Riddle was the sort to prepare him thoroughly, to make him come with his fingers until Harry was so loose and pliant that they both slipped in like a hand into a glove. He'd always wondered, of course, what it might be like to just push in like Tom sometimes did when he was impatient for a quick fuck, but he'd never actually asked for it.  
  
And it hurt, he found. It hurt, but it felt so good that he began dripping, the fluid from his cock collecting at the head and slipping down his shaft in thick droplets. He shook as they fucked him, both of them carelessly now, impatient or perhaps just uncaring. They didn't mind him, he thought - he was but an object to them. It made a strange mix of arousal and longing bubble up in his stomach. He wanted so badly for his lovers to be there.  
  
They finished inside him. The newcomer came first, and Harry wouldn't really have felt him cum if he didn't stop and make to pull out. The other man denied him sharply. "Stay there," he said, his nails biting crescents into Harry's hips. "I'm nearly there. Don't fuck it up for me."  
  
So the other man stayed, pushing his mouth into Harry's jaw and flicking Harry's nipples like they were toys to fidget with. He hissed occasionally, presumably because his cock was sensitive after coming, but he bruised Harry's jaw and made his nipples feel so swollen he wondered if they didn't look like tits by now. He began thrusting quite passionately back onto the stranger.  
  
When he came he slipped out, coming all over Harry's back instead of inside him. His come came in ropes, painting him from as high as his shoulders down to his arse and even the tops of his thighs. He seemed to come for minutes, his hand moving on his cock as of he could push out more with every slide of his hand. It seemed like forever before he was done.  
  
When he was, he pushed Harry's left thigh up roughly, and shoved the plug in before walking away. When he was gone, the other man finally seemed to relax.  
  
"Quite the arsehole, huh," he muttered. “But then I guess you like them like that." He kissed Harry, his tongue licking at Harry's stretched lips as if trying to push inside. Harry realised his own face was wet with drool, his chin soaked, his eyes damp with tears of frustration. He wondered if his cock looked as angry as it felt, as hungry as he felt. The man kissed him a little more, tucked himself back in and left quietly.  
  
He didn't know how many more men - and occasional women, came by to fuck him. It all seemed to get lost in a daze, and by the end Harry was sobbing and panting for his lovers to come let him down, to let him _come_ . At some point a woman had fingered him and watched him squirm with delight, rubbing against his prostate, but when he thought he might come she'd reached around and tightened the ribbon around his cock even more. Another time, a man had bitten and sucked at his thighs so hard he wondered if they weren't purple from all the bruising. But eventually Harry grew tired, his mind slipping into a haze where being used felt _good_ , felt satisfying like nothing else ever could. He was being good for Mr Riddle, for Tom. They'd put him here to satisfy their guests and he was letting them fulfil all their desires on him.  
  
He wanted them to come back, to let him down and tell him how proud they were. He wanted them to be happy with him.  
  
They seemed to come after an age. Everything hurt but Tom's sigh when he saw him made every part of him perk up in response. Tom's fingers were gentle as they ran across his skin, but he pressed his thumbs into the scratches and bruises left behind purposefully, watching Harry gasp and wince in delight. Mr Riddle pressed a soft kiss into his hair, and untied the rope from around the tree. He almost fell when it loosened, his limbs far too weak to keep him up, but Tom caught him with a strong arm under his knees and another around his back, and pulled him close so that he could rest his head on Tom's shoulder.  
  
The walk back was quiet. Tom smelled of expensive cologne, and the material against his cheek felt like his fancy suit jacket. He wondered if it wouldn't get dirty, covered in countless strangers' semen and spit, but Tom didn't seem to care. He walked up the stairs effortlessly, and deposited him on the soft sheets of their bed with care.  
  
Mr Riddle immediately slipped behind his back, still dressed but for his own suit jacket. He threaded his fingers slowly through Harry's curls and pulled his head to the side, kissing at his neck so gently it almost seemed just to be a touch of lips to skin. Tom pressed in close to his front. "Do you think you could hold on a little longer, darling," he asked, but it wasn't really a question. He stroked fingers along the strap of Harry's gag. "Just for us?"  
  
Harry nodded. He felt Mr Riddle's smile as it grew against his neck. The man reached down and slipped his own erection out, simultaneously pulling the plug out of Harry for the last time that night. Harry was coaxed down until he was bent over onto his knees, his head on Tom's lap as Mr Riddle pushed curious fingers into Harry's arse. He whistled.  
  
"How many did you take, darling?" he asked, amusement thick in his voice. His fingers pushed deeper, sliding against the prostate with practiced ease. Harry mewled, jerked uncontrollably, and Mr Riddle finally took mercy on him. "I'm not usually one for sloppy seconds," he said, "but I suppose you're just too tempting to pass up." And he sheathed his cock into Harry's arse in one smooth slide.  
  
Harry begged soundlessly, pushing his face eagerly into Tom's crotch. Mr Riddle started a steady, punishing pace, and despite the twinging of his arse Harry felt arousal burn through him again. His cock started leaking against his stomach, and he pushed his mouth at Tom's dick despite the gag in his mouth.  
  
Tom sighed as if it were a hardship, but his wicked smile was evident in his voice. "Very well then," he said, and undid Harry's gag. He pulled his erection out and, without preamble, pushed Harry's head down onto it. Harry choked, his mouth full of dick and saliva and his jaw twinging from being open for so long and the bruises along his bones. He made himself to limp, relaxed his throat, and let Tom use his mouth like it was just a sleeve for his cock.  
  
Tom thrust in enthusiastically. His fingers tightened in his hair, and he used his grip to pull Harry off and back down without a second thought. Harry felt so very full, so _used_  - he was sloppy enough that every thrust of Mr Riddle's dick into his arse was accompanied by the _shlick_  of excess cum. It slipped from his body and dropped down between his thighs, but Mr Riddle merely fucked him harder.  
  
Tom's dick was soaked by the time he came, Harry drooling onto it and trying hard to breathe despite the cock down his throat. He thrust shallowly up into Harry's mouth, then held him tightly down until his nose was pressed into his public hair, coming down his throat. Mr Riddle came around the same time, adding gladly to the mess inside Harry, and pulled out with a wet, filthy _pop_ . When Harry was finally allowed off Tom's dick, the first words he said were " _please_ ".  
  
His lips were swollen. Tom pressed the tip of his finger into the bottom lip hard, then slid them along the bottom. "Please what, sweetheart?" he asked, and although Harry was exhausted he managed to push himself up until he lay back against Mr Riddle, his legs spread as wide as they could go. His cock _hurt_ , tender enough that he thought it must be purple by now.  
  
He wanted to come so bad he thought he'd do anything for just a touch. "Please," he sobbed again, his voice hoarse, his eyes wet enough to dampen the thick blindfold. "Let me come, I'll do _anything_ -"  
  
He choked on his own words when Tom's mouth surrounded him - wet, hot heaven. His lover sucked him down like it was no effort, and sucked Harry hard enough to make him cry out ardently. He was so close, so nearly _there_ , his hands scrabbling for reach on Mr Riddle's thigh where they were tied behind him as he thrust up desperately. Mr Riddle finally had mercy on him - he reached down and undid the ribbon in one smooth pull, and Harry came with such force that he lost all awareness of where he was.  
  
When he came to, his hands were untied and Mr Riddle's strong, firm hands were working into his shoulders attentively. His blindfold was off, he realised - he opened his eyes to see the bathroom lit dimly, and Tom sitting in the bathtub before him. He smiled fondly at Harry, dipping the soapy sponge into bathwater and running it along Harry's chest. He bent his head and kissed his nipples, red and sore as they were, before moving up towards his collarbone. Harry watched lazily, unable to do more than appreciate how pretty Tom looked in the flickering candlelight.  
  
_He loved them so much_ .  
  
Mr Riddle reached down to pull his thigh up and Tom started on his calf, his movements gentle and thorough. He watched until his eyes slipped back closed, finding it harder to open them again every time he blinked. He felt Mr Riddle push his lips into Harry's wet hair, felt him reach to take one of Harry's wrists in each hand, felt Tom kiss his calf before moving onto his knee.  
  
"Sleep, darling," Mr Riddle said quietly. His voice was incredibly low, his chest rumbling against Harry's back with the shape of his words. He closed his eyes obediently, and let himself fall back into unconsciousness.


End file.
